The Ship Arrives

Almustafa, the chosen and the beloved, who was a dawn unto his own day, had waited twelve years in the city of Orphalese for his ship that was to return and bear him back to the isle of his birth.

Almustafa was the chosen and beloved one, a dawn for his own day. For twelve years, he had waited in the city of Orphalese for his ship to return. The ship would carry him back to the island where he was born.

And in the twelfth year, on the seventh day of Ielool, the month of reaping, he climbed the hill without the city walls and looked seaward; and he beheld his ship coming with the mist.

In the twelfth year, on the seventh day of Ielool, the harvest month, he climbed the hill outside the city walls. He looked out to sea and saw his ship coming through the mist.

Then the gates of his heart were flung open, and his joy flew far over the sea. And he closed his eyes and prayed in the silences of his soul.

Then his heart opened wide, and his joy flew far out over the sea. He closed his eyes and prayed in the silence of his soul.

But as he descended the hill, a sadness came upon him, and he thought in his heart:

But as he walked down the hill, he grew sad and thought to himself:

How shall I go in peace and without sorrow? Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city. Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret?

How can I leave in peace and without sorrow? No, I cannot leave this city without a wound in my spirit. I have spent long days of pain within its walls, and long nights alone. Who can leave their pain and loneliness behind without regret?

Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets, and too many are the children of my longing that walk naked among these hills, and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an ache.

I have scattered too many pieces of my spirit in these streets. Too many children of my longing walk naked among these hills. I cannot leave them without feeling burdened and aching.

It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands.

Today, I am not taking off a garment, but tearing away a skin with my own hands.

Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and with thirst.

Nor do I leave behind a thought, but a heart made sweet by hunger and thirst.

Yet I cannot tarry longer.

But I cannot stay any longer.

The sea that calls all things unto her calls me, and I must embark.

The sea that calls all things to her is calling me, and I must set sail.

For to stay, though the hours burn in the night, is to freeze and crystallize and be bound in a mould.

For to stay, though the hours burn through the night, is to freeze, crystallize, and become trapped in a mold.

Fain would I take with me all that is here. But how shall I?

I would gladly take everything here with me. But how can I?

A voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips that gave it wings. Alone must it seek the ether.

A voice cannot carry the tongue and lips that gave it wings. It must rise into the air alone.

And alone and without his nest shall the eagle fly across the sun.

And the eagle will fly across the sun, alone and without his nest.

Now when he reached the foot of the hill, he turned again towards the sea, and he saw his ship approaching the harbour, and upon her prow the mariners, the men of his own land.

When he reached the foot of the hill, he turned toward the sea again. He saw his ship approaching the harbor. At its bow stood the sailors, men from his own land.

And his soul cried out to them, and he said:

And his soul cried out to them, and he said:

Sons of my ancient mother, you riders of the tides,

Sons of my ancient mother, you who ride the tides,

How often have you sailed in my dreams. And now you come in my awakening, which is my deeper dream.

How often you have sailed through my dreams. And now you come as I wake, into my deeper dream.

Ready am I to go, and my eagerness with sails full set awaits the wind.

I am ready to go, and my eagerness waits for the wind with its sails fully set.

Only another breath will I breathe in this still air, only another loving look cast backward,

I will take only one more breath in this still air and cast only one more loving look back,

And then I shall stand among you, a seafarer among seafarers. And you, vast sea, sleepless mother,

And then I will stand among you, a sailor among sailors. And you, vast sea, sleepless mother,

Who alone are peace and freedom to the river and the stream,

Who alone bring peace and freedom to the river and the stream,

Only another winding will this stream make, only another murmur in this glade,

This stream will make only one more bend, and murmur only once more in this clearing,

And then shall I come to you, a boundless drop to a boundless ocean.

And then I will come to you, a boundless drop to a boundless ocean.

And as he walked he saw from afar men and women leaving their fields and their vineyards and hastening towards the city gates.

As he walked, he saw men and women in the distance. They were leaving their fields and vineyards and hurrying toward the city gates.

And he heard their voices calling his name, and shouting from field to field telling one another of the coming of his ship.

He heard their voices calling his name. They shouted from field to field, telling one another that his ship was coming.

And he said to himself:

And he said to himself:

Shall the day of parting be the day of gathering?

Will the day of parting be the day of coming together?

And shall it be said that my eve was in truth my dawn?

And will people say that my evening was really my dawn?

And what shall I give unto him who has left his plough in midfurrow, or to him who has stopped the wheel of his winepress? Shall my heart become a tree heavy-laden with fruit that I may gather and give unto them?

And what should I give the person who has left his plow in the middle of a furrow, or the one who has stopped the wheel of his winepress? Should my heart become a tree heavy with fruit, so that I can gather it and give it to them?

And shall my desires flow like a fountain that I may fill their cups?

And will my desires flow like a fountain so that I may fill their cups?

Am I a harp that the hand of the mighty may touch me, or a flute that his breath may pass through me?

Am I a harp for the hand of the mighty one to touch, or a flute for his breath to pass through?

A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure have I found in silences that I may dispense with confidence?

I seek silence, but what treasure have I found in it that I can share with confidence?

If this is my day of harvest, in what fields have I sowed the seed, and in what unremembered seasons?

If this is my day of harvest, in what fields did I plant the seeds, and in what forgotten seasons?

If this indeed be the hour in which I lift up my lantern, it is not my flame that shall burn therein.

If this is indeed the time for me to lift my lantern, it will not be my flame that burns in it.

Empty and dark shall I raise my lantern,

I will raise my lantern, empty and dark,

And the guardian of the night shall fill it with oil and he shall light it also.

And the guardian of the night will fill it with oil and light it.

These things he said in words. But much in his heart remained unsaid. For he himself could not speak his deeper secret.

He said these things aloud. But much in his heart remained unsaid, because he could not speak his deeper secret.

And when he entered into the city all the people came to meet him, and they were crying out to him as with one voice.

When he entered the city, all the people came to meet him. They called out to him as if with one voice.

And the elders of the city stood forth and said:

And the elders of the city stepped forward and said:

Go not yet away from us.

Do not leave us yet.

A noontide have you been in our twilight, and your youth has given us dreams to dream.

You have been like midday in our twilight, and your youth has given us dreams to dream.

No stranger are you among us, nor a guest, but our son and our dearly beloved.

You are not a stranger or a guest among us, but our son and our dearly beloved.

Suffer not yet our eyes to hunger for your face.

Do not let our eyes long for your face just yet.

And the priests and the priestesses said unto him:

And the priests and priestesses said to him:

Let not the waves of the sea separate us now, and the years you have spent in our midst become a memory.

Do not let the waves of the sea separate us now, or let your years among us become a memory.

You have walked among us a spirit, and your shadow has been a light upon our faces.

You have walked among us as a spirit, and your shadow has been a light on our faces.

Much have we loved you. But speechless was our love, and with veils has it been veiled.

We have loved you deeply. But our love was silent and hidden behind veils.

Yet now it cries aloud unto you, and would stand revealed before you.

Yet now it cries out to you and wants to reveal itself to you.

And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

And love has always known its own depth only when separation comes.

And others came also and entreated him. But he answered them not. He only bent his head; and those who stood near saw his tears falling upon his breast.

Others came and pleaded with him too. But he did not answer them. He only bowed his head, and those standing nearby saw his tears fall onto his chest.

And he and the people proceeded towards the great square before the temple.

And he and the people walked toward the great square in front of the temple.

And there came out of the sanctuary a woman whose name was Almitra. And she was a seeress.

A woman named Almitra came out of the sanctuary. She was a seer.

And he looked upon her with exceeding tenderness, for it was she who had first sought and believed in him when he had been but a day in their city. And she hailed him, saying:

He looked at her with great tenderness. For she had first sought him out and believed in him after he had spent only one day in their city. She called out to him, saying:

Prophet of God, in quest of the uttermost, long have you searched the distances for your ship.

Prophet of God, you seek the farthest reaches. For a long time, you have looked into the distance for your ship.

And now your ship has come, and you must needs go.

And now your ship has come, and you must go.

Deep is your longing for the land of your memories and the dwelling place of your greater desires; and our love would not bind you nor our needs hold you.

You long deeply for the land of your memories and the home of your greatest desires. And our love would not bind you, nor would our needs hold you back.

Yet this we ask ere you leave us, that you speak to us and give us of your truth.

Yet before you leave us, we ask you to speak to us and share your truth.

And we will give it unto our children, and they unto their children, and it shall not perish.

And we will give it to our children, and they will give it to theirs, and it will not perish.

In your aloneness you have watched with our days, and in your wakefulness you have listened to the weeping and the laughter of our sleep.

In your solitude, you have watched over our days. While we slept, you stayed awake and listened to our weeping and laughter.

Now therefore disclose us to ourselves, and tell us all that has been shown you of that which is between birth and death.

So now, help us understand ourselves. Tell us all you have been shown about life between birth and death.

And he answered,

And he answered,

People of Orphalese, of what can I speak save of that which is even now moving within your souls?

People of Orphalese, what can I speak of except what is moving within your souls right now?